


Should Circumstance Allow

by Night_song



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: AU yes but with all the lovecraftian-esque weirdness we know and love, Alternate Universe, Assassins, M/M, Sheriff's Secret Police, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_song/pseuds/Night_song
Summary: An assassin is efficient after all; that is the first thing an assassin should be.





	Should Circumstance Allow

Gravel crunched underneath Carlos’s wheels as he pulled into the first gas station he’d seen since entering Night Vale. The town border had been much farther than he had anticipated, so somewhat against personal protocol, he was stopping for services. Part of his job was to make absolutely certain that there was no trail to lead back to his organization; an assassin is efficient, after all. That is the first thing an assassin should be.  
A cool breeze rolled onto him as he entered the gas station. As part of his disguise for this job he had allowed his curling black hair to grow out far longer than he usually preferred and he sported a pair of thick fake glasses, both of which were highly inconvenient in this desert climate. The pleasantly air-conditioned gas station lobby was helping to alleviate some of the sweat buildup on the back of his neck and behind the frames of his glasses. Carlos laid a couple of twenties on the counter in front of the employee, a middle-aged man with a protruding stomach and a short, but well-kept beard.  
“Thirty dollars on pump two please.” The man glanced up.  
“Sure thing,” he said in a gruff voice. He began to punch the numbers into the register then said, “You passin’ through?”  
“Yes,” Carlos replied simply.  
“You ain’t a tourist or nothin’ I bet,” the employee said while the receipt printed up. “There ain’t a lick to see out in this desert. ‘Sept maybe a coupla rocks.”  
“Rocks are exactly it,” Carlos said with a thin smile as he took the receipt and folded it into his pocket. “I’m a geologist. There are some interesting specimens around this area, so I’m here to gather samples. Thank you,” he said, turning to go, “Have a nice day.”  
“Wait!” said the man suddenly. “You’re a geologist? Like a… like a scientist?” Carlos half-turned back to face him.  
“Yes,” he said, eyeing the man’s uncomfortable expression.  
“Look, pal, I don’t mean to pry or nothin’ but you should really be wearin’ your permit badge.” Carlos felt his eyes narrow in mild confusion.  
“Permit badge?” he asked. The employee’s worried look deepened.  
“Oh no… don’t tell me you didn’t fill out the paperwork.”  
“I’m sure whatever paperwork was required, my project leader took care of it for me.” Carlos said reassuringly, wanting to end the conversation and leave. He continued toward the sliding doors, only to see a pair of official looking men already entering through them. Without so much as a warning they unceremoniously grabbed him by the wrists and began to handcuff him.  
Damn it.  
Carlos knew better than to resist what was obviously authority, but had to push down the instinct all the same. Was this a fight? Should he be fighting? He honestly didn’t know. Luckily the gas station employee spoke up on his behalf. “Woah, woah, officers! I don’t mean to undermine you or nothin’, but this guys obviously an outsider. It was probably an innocent mistake.” The officers, who were unlike any government officials Carlos had ever seen, were silent behind their full face masks. They did, however, stop dragging him towards the door.  
“He’s right, officers,” Carlos said. “I was not aware that there were any forms I had to fill out before passing through the town. I am more than happy to oblige, if that’s the case.” He tried to discern some sort of reaction behind those masks. The two officers faced each other for a moment without speaking. Eventually, one of them reluctantly produced a packet of papers from the largest pocket on his belt. Carlos gratefully took the form and moved to the counter to fill out the necessary information. He read over the questions quickly, then took a pen from his shirt pocket. The reaction was instantaneous.  
In a split second he was being roughly manhandled again. One officer slapped the pen from his hand and dragged him from where it fell on the tiled floor. The second was already shooting the pen into shattered plastic pieces. The gas station employee had taken cover under the counter the moment he had seen the utensil in Carlos’s hand.  
Unused to being taken off guard, Carlos began to protest, but the second police officer interrupted him. “You think this is funny?” he growled, not bothering to holster his weapon. Carlos closed his mouth. What the hell was going on here? Was this all some kind of elaborate setup for… for what? But it couldn’t be genuine. Nobody got arrested for neglecting paperwork. Even if they did, it was too convenient for a couple of officers to be waiting right outside to arrest him for it the minute he drove into town. The officer continued to advance menacingly then grabbed Carlos’s shirt collar. “You’re no outsider,” he spat. “You’re just a punk. A punk that’s under arrest and headed for re-education.”  
Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos saw the officer behind him raise a thick black stick. He dodged and it swung over his head, but the second officer was already moving towards him. Carlos threw his elbow into the officer’s chin and tried to twist out of his grasp, but before Carlos could resist any further he felt a blinding force against the back of his head. Then, darkness.

 

Carlos leaned back in the soft chair, waiting for… well, to be honest, he wasn’t really sure. He was still skeptical that this was a holding cell at all. It looked much more like a hotel room than a prison. There was a sign on the wall that read in bright letters: “Welcome to the Abandoned Mine Shaft on the Edge of Town! Your holding cell number is #117. Instructions for the HBO and wifi are in the nightstand drawer. Enjoy your stay!” Upon opening the nightstand drawer, he found that the sign had been serious. Not that he’d had time to watch television. Once he had convinced the first interrogation officer that he truly was new to the town and simply didn’t realize the strict regulations on paperwork, he had been given an introduction packet. It had taken him a good while to get through it, but it did explain some of his unfortunate experience in this town so far. Among other things, it outlined the City Council’s ban on writing utensils.  
There was a light knock on the door, then another nameless, faceless officer entered. It was hard to tell under all that kevlar and equipment, but he thought this one was female.  
“Carlos Reyas?” said the (definitely female) officer. Carlos kept perfectly expressionless, but internally he was reeling. That wasn’t the name on the fake I.D. in the wallet they had taken from him. How much else did they know?  
“Yes?” he replied.  
“This is for you,” she said, handing him a clean white lab coat.  
“Thank you,” said Carlos automatically. Then, “Why do I need this?”  
“You’re a scientist, right?”  
“Geologist.”  
“Eh, whatever. Science. Anyway, you have to wear this when you’re out in public. Uniform regulation of your profession.”  
“A lab coat?” he said with great skepticism. “At all times? In this Desert?” Even without the help of facial expressions he could tell that she was growing stern.  
“Its the law,” she said firmly. Frowning, Carlos shrugged on the lab coat, feeling the temperature in the room rise about ten degrees. “Now, are you planning to attend the town meeting in the clothes you are wearing now, or would you prefer I bring you your belongings?” She wasn’t shooting him, or taking him to a higher level prison, so he guessed she didn’t know much else besides his real name.  
“Town meeting?” he asked.  
“Yes,” she replied. “Its mandatory.” Carlos wondered briefly what kind of town meeting was government mandated and if his Target would be in attendance. The picture from his file flashed in his mind. It had been a simple bust shot of The Target, who was all immaculately styled white-blond hair and purple button down sweater vest. He would have looked very prim and put together if it weren’t for the absolutely garish shade of orange his collared shirt had been. It had even had an unfortunate paisley pattern to boot. Carlos was curious to see if The Target dressed like that on a daily basis.  
The officer's voice pulled him back to the present, and he realized she was still talking. “ I have been assigned to drive you there as an apology from the Secret Police Department for arresting you when you were obviously new to the town,” she was saying. “You now understand what will be expected of you for the duration of your stay, right?” The officer nodded towards the thick packet he had spent the last two hours reading.  
“I do,” he reassured her, eager to be out of custody. This Night Vale parody of a government was still a government and he was more than ready to stay as far under its radar as possible. At this point it was not necessary to pull out from the job entirely, but he would have to keep an even quieter profile than usual for the next however long he was here.  
As they drove to the town hall, the police car was quiet except for the low radio talk show in the background. After a moment, though, some of the announcer's words caught his attention. At first he disregarded it as a story about a different new comer to the town. As that deep, sonorous voice continued however, Carlos grew anxious.  
“A new man came into town today,” the radio informed them. “Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut?” Carlos slowly reached up to touch his untamable hair, with it’s premature touches of grey at the temples. While not perfect, it certainly was distinctive. “Why his perfect and beautiful coat?” Carlos glanced down at his new lab coat. No. There was no way the radio was talking about... “He says he is a scientist.”  
Damn it.  
Anything was news in a town as small as this, he thought bitterly. Perhaps, if he was lucky, the radio wasn’t a big source of news around here and next to no one heard the vague report. He realized uncomfortably that this was the first time in his career that he had stirred up such trouble on a job.  
“This radio station,” he said to the officer driving. “Is it popular? That is, do very many people listen to this particular news report?” The officer snorted.  
“Cecil’s show?” she asked. “I don’t think you could find anyone in this town who doesn’t listen to this news report. He’s always first with information, first on the scene… this radio station keeps almost as many people alive and informed about town disasters as the Secret Police.”  
Cecil’s show? Carlos pulled The Target’s file into his memory. CECIL GERSHWIN PALMER, the front page had read, and underneath that in smaller letters, male, 34. The Target had a job at the community radio station as a host. What were the odds that there was more than one Cecil with the same job in this tiny town? Carlos began to knead small circles into his temples. Everything about this job and this Target and this town…  
“Are you feeling okay?” asked the officer beside him.  
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m just tired.”  
“Oh, good,” she said in a relieved tone. She pulled into the parking lot of a stately looking building. “It would be awful if you had to present to the town while you were coming down with something.”  
Caros felt his stomach drop. “Present to the town? You don’t mean… I’m not presenting anything, right?”  
“You’re not worried about your clothes, are you? Jeans and flannel shirt are okay I guess, but I gave you the opportunity to change…”  
“No! Thats not it!” Carlos was not prone to panicking, but he could feel his heartbeat picking up. He had never liked crowds to begin with, let alone standing in front of one at the center of attention. Also, what had she said earlier? Attendance was mandatory? The entirety of Night Vale would be present? “I don’t have anything to present! I can’t just… there’s no way you expect me to simply…!”  
“Woah, calm down,” she said in a firm voice. “No one expected you to really prepare anything. You just need to give a mission statement. What you plan to do here, things you’re excited about, how often you plan to eat at Big Rico’s Pizza… You know, normal stuff!”  
“But I didn’t get any warning! I do not want to be up in front of that auditorium.”  
“I’m sorry, but it’s mandatory. Did you even read that form you stamped? Now come on. You can’t be late.” With that, she exited the car, giving Carlos no choice but to reluctantly follow her.

 

A little while later, Carlos sat in a little pizza place off the town’s only main road. He slowly crumbled the pizza’s crust between his fingers as he considered his situation. The radio was playing in the little restaurant, and The Target was describing the events of the town meeting. Carlos had been extremely brief, sweating and mumbling something about Night Vale’s geological community being the most scientifically interesting in the U.S. between pushing up his glasses and grinning nervously. He was a trained assassin, for God’s sake! Something as simple as public speaking should not reduce him to a quivering mass of sweat and insecurities.  
Either way, he wondered if this job was even salvageable. Literally the entire town was aware of his presence, his name and his appearance. The police knew his real identity and had his (albeit, stamped) signature along with a blood sample they had taken when he was unconscious, and to top things off, The Target was talking about him on the community radio station at that very moment. Wait, what?  
“That new scientist — we now know it’s named Carlos — called a town meeting.” Great. This again. “He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure.” Absolutely great. Now anyone in town that somehow hadn’t been at the town meeting had a physical description of him. He doubted anyone hadn’t attended though. Even the police department was there. Unless they were following him. Or that kind of police presence was just normal around here. He honestly couldn’t even guess at this point. And to top it off, he was still being talked about on the radio. He doubted there was any way this situation could possibly get worse.  
“Carlos grinned, and everything about him was perfect,” The Target continued. “And I fell in love instantly.”  
Damn it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the chapter that won me first place in the Anime Banzai Fan Fiction contest! It will most likely stay a oneshot unless you guys let me know you'd like me to write more :) I love feedback and critique, btw, let me know!


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